


Delicate Crowns

by fors_manus



Series: Dragon Age One-Shots [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Gen, cole is a sweet baby who only wants to help everyone, only a tiny bit of angst because of my lavellan's backstory, through flowers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 02:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14178444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fors_manus/pseuds/fors_manus
Summary: After finally returning to Skyhold from his trek through the Western Approach, Mahanon Lavellan receives a visit from Cole with a gift that reflects the elf's past





	Delicate Crowns

Mahanon Lavellan was a soft-hearted man, or so he tried to believe from his and many others' perspective. From what his friends told him, the fact that their Inquisitor was still so kind despite his political sort of position and the overbearing destiny, was simply a miracle in itself.

Of course, there were times when the Herald's positive attitude lacked, but that was quickly seen as understandable and the elf would spend those days filling out reports of his travels that required his attention and signature than publicly simmering in his negative attitude. Whether or not this routine of Mahanon's was obvious to his companions, it was only a matter of weeks till the male caught on to his friends' intentions after their presence become more recurring than the usual report giving Inquisition soldiers during those days.

The flirty but amusing mood of the Tevinter Mage always managed to make the rogue crack a smile, especially with his repetitive dramatic entrances bellowing news of Skyhold's latest gossip and the gift of newly brewed soothing tea. Commander Cullen would sometimes knock on his door and make an excuse for the Inquisitor to leave his work, such as helping him practice playing chess due to him losing the last game against Dorian (the lie was used so often that Mahanon soon took pity on his weak but persistent attempts). Sometimes even Sera would barge into the room, jump on his bed and immediately start a conversation which required Mahanon to immediately put down his quill and pay attention or risk listening for the next 10 minutes without understanding a single word she was saying.

Times like this usually ended in putting the Inquisitor in a much more relaxed and joyful mood for the remainder of the day and leave him beaming once again after a night's rest.

It was only a matter of time now when they would once again catch on to Mahanon's vacant activity and try to cheer him up once more, which of course he appreciated, who wouldn't? But at the same time, it was often that the elf found solace in the depressing thoughts, which continued to remind him that despite the mark on his hand, the Inquisitor was still just a man trying his best to help those in need of it.

With this thought in mind, Mahanon sighed in bliss as he walked away from the brown dressing divider in the corner of the room, now changed into the typical grey outfit he wore around the Skyhold Fortress. Deciding to push around the logs in the fireplace with a metal fire iron in the new-born flames the rogue just created minutes ago, Mahanon wiped his hands together to discard any grains of sand that somehow managed to find its way over from the Western Approach.

Standing back up with a strain of pain, the Herald walked across to his desk which held quite an impressive pile of much attention seeking papers. And somehow, despite how unusual it still was for the Dalish elf to oversee reading such important manuscripts, it certainly was the better option than battling another wild Abyssal High Dragon arse deep in sand. But then again, with now the aid of a Professor of Draconology in the Inquisition and the overjoyed emotions of Iron Bull's approval after the massive battle, it was safe to say that the trip to the deserted plains was certainly not a waste of effort.

Pushing in the chair and grabbing the dry black quill, Mahanon began filling in the many papers. Smiling every so often at his Advisor's light jokes or personal opinions on how to deal with the situation on the paper. As time slowly began passing, the elf pushed a strained hand through his hair before untying the string and letting it fall to the sides of his face, rereading once again over the report in his hand with squinting eyes.

Grumbling slightly at the subtle but still noticeable insult at the end of the page sent by one of the many rich Orlesians, the man leaned back in the chair and rested his cheek against his hand in thought. Inking the tip of the feather, Mahanon leaned forward in his seat to concentrate on what to write in return on how his companions would deal with the situation of determined Venatori raiders.

The tight ache in his wrist from writing for so long was almost comforting compared to the storming thoughts in his mind and the every-so-often twitch in his left palm.

Just as the rogue gently placed the tip of the quill on the light brown paper, he felt a light pressure suddenly fall on top of his head and stiffened in surprise at the sudden contact. Placing the feather to the side slowly, Mahanon slowly raised his hand to touch the circular object and blinked in surprise at the familiar feeling of large and small petals.

"The forest was a safe place, a sanctuary of whispers no one else listened to. Too afraid to talk, so he cried until she listened," the Inquisitor continued to stare up at the flowers, feeling a lump in his throat form as Cole continued to speak. "You were hurting, I… tried to help. Your sister would make these when you were sad," feeling a small smile form on his lips, Lavellan looked to the right to see Cole hiding behind the large hat that he wore.

"Yes," the elf slowly agreed, "She did... was I hurting you much?"

A shake of the head showed the spirit's reply, "No, I am fine. Still the same coin, family in words but not in the spilled blood on copper. Not to happen again. Flames licking and people screaming. Fire burning and expectations ruined, never again. There is no sanctuary now. No one to listen, the embers burned it all away," Cole continued in quick breaths, making the Herald swallow at the washed up old and new memories.

Gently picking up the crown from his head, Mahanon noticed the blonde slowly look up at him as the elf delicately traced his fingers along the petals, smiling at the contrasting colours. "Ellana would always use the same flowers, despite me knowing my sister would always tell me the symbolism of each one she made and how they represented the issues I was going through."

"Flowers have names…?" Cole's child-like voice made the Herald lightly chuckle. "And meanings," he finished off the sentence for the younger man, pricking his ears in interest when he noticed Cole's confused stare.

Brushing away the loose papers on the desk, the flower crown was placed on the table as the tattered clothed man walked around the table, "See here, the blue flowers? Those are Forget Me Nots, and the yellow flowers are Lilies. Each flower has different meanings to them," Mahanon explained whilst pointing to either plant. "Easiest examples would be the typical red rose, which symbolizes passion and romance, or cyclamen flowers in memory of those who passed away because of their meaning of departure to the Beyond."

"And these flowers... mean something to you," the Inquisitor watched in curiosity as Cole picked the crown up with stable hands. "The blue ones mean positive memories, remembering the positive times in life. Whilst the yellow ones mean gaiety; happiness and joy. My sister would choose those especially to remind me of the happier times when I was still a child, even now I sometimes receive one of those flowers in a letter. Leliana didn't understand until I told her who was sending them," the silver-haired man smiled as he talked, a slight distant look in his eyes.

The spirit glanced at the Herald of Andraste, a glint of interest suddenly sparkling in his eyes, "And these help? They make you happy?" The archer chuckled at the sudden enthusiastic child-like tone in Cole's voice before nodding. "Could they make others happy?" the blonde asked again whilst leaning more into the desk, "I think so, I'm sure that many people here would enjoy wearing them," Mahanon answered with a large smile. Thoughts of his Ambassador rushing around Skyhold with a colour matching flower crown on her head as she continued her daily duties or Bull forcing his Chargers to wear the crowns with boosting enthusiasm made the Dalish inwardly smile in adoration.

"Why? Do you want to make some now?" the rogue asked almost immediately afterwards, the thoughts of paperwork draining from his mind as he stood from his seat and began to walk towards the staircase leading out of the room. Looking behind him, the elf paused to watch Cole skip in his step to catch up, an excited, "Yes!" sounding from his lips as he returned the flower crown back onto Mahanon's head before disappearing.

 

The Inquisitor smiled as he gently held the crown in place whilst running down the steps and through the corridor to the Main Hall, opening the door and freezing up at the sight of the spirit waiting for him with a large grin who quickly disappeared again only to shimmer back into sight at the Hall entrance.

Noticing the astonished looks from the nobles at the garment on his head, Mahanon decided to simply smile and nod to those who remembered to greet him and gave Varric an, 'I'll explain later' look at the dwarf's amused but baffled expression from where he sat on his typical table. Speeding up the pace once the Dalish elf noticed the distance between him and the friendly spirit, but laughed as Cole voiced his excitement once again and gently took the others hand. Waving at Scout Harding near the Tavern, he lead the blonde to the right and down the stone steps below the ones they just went on.

Once again holding onto the flower crown lightly due to the bounce in his footsteps, both men walked into the mini shopping market and immediately noticed the newly brought in flower filled cart.

“Piles of stones warm to the touch. Gathered people smile and nourish at the feeling of safety for another day. Declan would have liked it here.” Mahanon raised an eyebrow at Cole, following the younger man’s stare to the bright smiling lady behind the stall who was currently handing a bouquet to another woman.

Watching as the flower wielding girl caressed the flowers in her hands as the pair approached, the Inquisitor smiled as she walked past him before turning to explore the variety of brands which the stand offered.

Mahanon felt that this was going to take a while.

* * *

It was possible that deciding to sit on the bench outside of the boasting Tavern to create more of the flower crowns was maybe not the most ideal location. As Mahanon weaved the stems around each other delicately, he glanced to the side to watch Cole, who found the ground more preferable despite the grumbles of passing people, who had started another wreath. Picking up another one of the plants in the basket, the Inquisitor gently tucked the Statice flower into the now finished crown before leaning forward and placing it on top of Cole’s hat, pleased that is sat on top of its rim so perfectly.

The elf's smile widened as the blonde suddenly dropped his current project onto his lap and slowly, as if handling a scared nug, removed his large hat to study the new decoration. Suddenly acknowledging what the added weight was, the boy’s head shot back up with wide pale eyes, surprise being the only obvious word to describe the expression.

“Daisies for loyalty and innocence, and Statice for Remembrance,” Mahanon explained happily, taking the hat out of the owner’s hands and placing it back on Cole’s head whilst fixing some of the flowers positions. “I thought those would suit you the best, since you always try to help in whatever way you can,” he explained and placed his hands on his thighs.

“Thank you,” the tattered man whispered, making it almost hard to hear for anyone passing by the courtyard that took notice of either pair. “You’re welcome; now then,” the Herald shifted from the bench to the dry ground beside the shy man and fished a hand through the basket, “Which colours do you suppose Cassandra would suit best?”

Cole smiled softly, a warm feeling flooding in his chest. It was similar to the pangs he experienced when feeling someone in need of help, but... there was no pain. It didn’t hurt. Watching the silver haired elf begin another crown.

Cole lifted a hand up towards his chest, placing thin bony fingers where his heart would be. Feeling the butterfly-like feeling spin in his chest, the blonde allowed a willing smile to grow upon his face. Because despite it all, the feeling felt good.

Yes… good.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly whenever I see flowers I just think of Cole now because of his metaphoric use of speech and how each flower represents something. There should be more Cole and flowers...  
> Kudos and Comments are appreciated!  
> Thank you for reading!


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